


Dear Happiness

by papiersam



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: AU, College, and a touch of that p4 mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 21:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20021590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papiersam/pseuds/papiersam
Summary: Kanji, Rise, and Naoto, and their messy college social life - which gets even messier when they collide. Somehow, though, they'll figure it out.





	Dear Happiness

With two minutes to the 7 am class, he carelessly emptied all 437 milliliters of energy drink into his coffee cup and stirred the two together like wine before putting the lid back on.

"I'm gonna die," he muttered to himself before draining the entire blend in one swing.

Naoto watched with a sort of removed fascination. She had to agree, though: if the caffeine overdose didn't kill this boy, the midterm next week would.

Either way, she didn't care.

* * *

_Chopin's Ballade No. 1 in G minor, Op. 23._

Naoto kept to a lullaby pace, barely touching the keys.

Not that all of them really worked — tapped or smashed or otherwise — and that really ruined the peaceful immersion, but Naoto was, if nothing else, resourcefully adaptive.

Which translated to 'having a penchant for ignoring things'.

She was also something of a tinker, and that part of her quietly ran through the mechanics of the piano parts as she played, running between crystallised rubber grommets to loose jacks and hammers and worn-out springs to—

"H-hey, man?"

For all the slowness and softness she had been playing with, the room went surprisingly quiet when Naoto stopped and looked up at the boy who interrupted her.

Who looked utterly scandalised at being looked at—though, he looked like many things. A biker, with face and ear piercings, bleached slick-back hair and skull tank-top; a misfit, standing tall at maybe six foot with a slouch that, from Naoto's standpoint, seemed more like he was looking down on her; a survivor, for not dying last week from the Monster Coffee (as Naoto had dubbed it, not that she had given the incident a second thought whatsoever).

But for now, he looked like a schoolkid on the first day. "S-sorry, man. Jus' looked like you fell asleep while playing, tha's all. Which would've been cool, too, I was jus'…"

Naoto levelled him with a bored stare, only half listening to him. The rest of her just wanted to be left at peace again, except for a small part of her that wondered if he survived in part because of his sheer mass, because there was _a lot_ of him, a lot of him that was standing awkwardly and—

Right, conversation. Naoto always got this part wrong.

"I assure you, I was awake."

The boy almost jumped at hearing her speak. "C-cool! Yeah, I knew that, I jus'…" he trailed off with a halfhearted shrug.

Silence settled in again, with Naoto waiting for him to leave; there wasn't anything to add to the conversation, and she didn't want to start playing again with someone watching. She felt their exchange had accomplished its purpose, and served another no further.

Naoto, more or less, was as technical and to the point as a needle.

Still, while the boy looked like he wanted to leave, he instead stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the piano keys. "So, what're you doin' here on a Saturday, playin' all alone?"

"Precisely that," Naoto replied, curt by wont. Though the upright piano in the lobby sounded like something picked up off the curb and the acoustics therein were abysmal, the area remained peacefully empty: students weren't likely to be on campus on a Saturday evening after midterm week, and the blissful loneliness was just how Naoto liked things.

Which brought her back to waiting for the boy to leave, with no fruition.

"Tha's cool, dude. I was jus' hangin' 'round, saw you playin', recognized you from a couple classes and thought I'd, y'know..?" He pulled a hand out of his pocket and waved it uselessly.

"Ask if I were asleep, as you mentioned." Naoto was equal parts annoyed and impressed with herself for having the conversational aptitude to keep her company around for so long. She was definitely going to write this down in her logs as a social accomplishment.

The boy, however, seemed mostly disquieted. "Y-yeah. Um." He breathed in through his nose loudly, bracingly, and threw his hand at Naoto, nearly smacking right into her—maybe, Naoto thought, if he had bothered to _look at her as he spoke_. "Kanji. Er, Tatsumi. Kanji Tatsumi."

Naoto was taken aback a moment; at both the boy's — Tatsumi Kanji — attempt at formality, which was an appreciated form of respect from her despite his obvious lack of sophistication, and at the gesture itself. Sure, they were classmates — according to him, but she wouldn't have noticed outside of the Monster Coffee incident – but introducing himself meant—

Meant what? He wanted to know her name? Wanted to know more about _her_?

She nearly scoffed at the thought. It was a formality, a simple social gesture, nothing more.

She would return it in kind.

She stood up, absently smoothing out her shirt, and straightened— _not_ because she suddenly felt ridiculously short in front of Kanji. With practiced decorum and a hint of pride, she introduced herself.

"Shirogane Naoto." She shook his hand once, firmly.

A few moments passed, and Naoto waited stiffly for Kanji to withdraw from the handshake — he was the one who initiated it, it would be a sign of impatience and insult to draw back first.

Kanji stared at their hands for about three seconds longer before, as if suddenly realizing he was on fire, wrenching his hand away and rubbing his palm against his pants.

"Y-y-psh, yeah, cool, man. S'cool name, that. Naoto. Haven't heard it. 'S cool." Kanji sputtered on like a broken water faucet. "Your last one, too. Sh-Shirogane. Sounds fancy an' posh an' all."

Naoto dropped her abandoned hand to her side, and watched Kanji stammer more than she listened. All things considered, this Kanji left her unimpressed: his colloquy skills were worse than hers, as clunky and awkward as the way he held himself, and his continued acquaintance offered her no benefit.

Though, he had lived through the caffeine concoction, and probably more than that once. He was resilient, she could concede, but in Naoto's professional experience, that mostly added up to stubbornness.

And stubbornness, in Naoto's professional experience, was childish.

"Well, Tatsumi. I should take my leave." She bowed her head just slightly, and couldn't see his expression over the brim of her hat, but she heard his faltering, disappointing — disappointed? — response before turning and walking away.

* * *

Kanji felt tremendously stupid, watching her walk away.

Well, he usually felt pretty stupid, but every time he tried to talk to a girl — because, y'know, that's what college guys did – he reminded himself of how far his stupidity could go.

Yeah, well, people who invited him to college parties and left him alone while they got along with everyone else there were stupid, too.

Like the devil, Rise strutted up to Kanji, hands clasped behind her back. She gave him that winning smile of hers — closed and wide, outlined with pink lipstick under bright eyes — and, when she was a little closer than anyone else dared to come, lifted herself onto her tiptoes.

"Struck out, huh?"

"Wasn't anything like that!" Kanji bit out, scowling down at her.

"Oh, loosen up, Kanji-kun." She dropped down and took a half-step back. "It's a party, not a board meeting."

Kanji shrugged. "Pretty bored, meeting people who can't even pretend to keep up a decent conversation."

Rise giggled — the sound of bubbles, tickling when it popped at the lightest touch — and shot him a thumbs up. "Nice one!"

Despite himself, Kanji smiled. "Yeah, well, I try."

Which was only because his new roommate — a foreign, blonde and blue eyed oddball who had a weird obsession with being a stud — went and took any chance to make bear puns. The dude also carried a blue and red bear suit of all things, which Kanji still couldn't figure out, and was thus far not allowed to touch.

Really, all things considered, Kanji wasn't much of a funny guy, and his interests were hopelessly limited to boring things like sewing and crafting, but he still had a penchant for wordplay; it always fascinated him how lost he could get by just words.

Naoto Shirogane used really big words.

Hell, Shirogane sounded like a big word. Sounded all high class, like Naoto dressed.

Well, dressed and acted and sounded. The way he stood and walked — straight as an arrow, guy could probably balance books on his head while he strolled about — and the way he dressed — dress shirts, collar high and crisp, ties, and those uncomfortably prim pants — down to the way he spoke — witty words spoken with brittle confidence that somehow sounded as soft as yarn — marked Naoto as one of those refined guys that Kanji just couldn't _stop_ noticing.

Wasn't his fault; Naoto just stood out, somehow — everything seemed to be a _somehow_ with that guy. He didn't really ever speak to anyone at all, and only answered the prof when called on.

But that was different, and that's why it stood out. Kanji kind of liked how quiet Naoto was, made him feel a little less alone, _somehow_ — dammit — to know that someone else was just as distant from everyone else, just as different.

Kanji's eyes wandered, and the tips of his ears burned when they suddenly landed on Naoto Shirogane.

The guy was supposed too good for parties, and _dammit,_ there he stood, up and dressed all party-casual; tucked in, white dress shirt under one of those checkered sleeved sweaters— _damn_ , that was some quality looking fleece — and frickin' beige _trousers_ that should have clashed with his blue paperboy hat but _didn't_.

Kanji hated how good it looked on Naoto; he'd dressed formal for the occasions he had to, like his old man's funer— no, like at the interview he had to do to get into the college, but the pants were scratchy and the shirt was too big, and all together he looked like an amateur actor playing a father, as Rise put it.

"Kanji, you're not listening!" Rise yelled — the music picked up at some point in his musing. "What are you…"

In his peripheral vision, Kanji saw Rise turn her head as she went silent. A few moments went by the three of them.

"Whoa," Rise finally breathed, leaning forward and gazing. "He's _handsome_."

"Yeah," Kanji agreed, equally entranced. They stood staring for a few seconds more before they simultaneously looked at each other, blankly, and Kanji _jumped_ and sputtered a rushed, "Y-yeah, you'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Rise kept her stare on him a little longer before giving him a small smile. "Yeah, he's _totally_ cute. He's the guy you keep talking about, right?"

Kanji blanched. He couldn't have said anything, he just learned the dude's name last week! "Wh-what guy?"

"Y'know, smart and classy guy from all your classes." Rise turned to look back at Naoto, but Kanji refused to follow and instead glared at her growing grin. "And I totally agree; he's got that sophisticated vibe. I bet he's got one of those European accents."

"No, but he uses all those huge words you'd find in a thesaurus and his English is all perfect." Well, as far as Kanji and his inadequate English could tell.

Rise hopped upright and squealed. " _Ooh_ , I dig a guy who speaks English. I'm gonna go talk to him."

"W-what?" Kanji barely managed before Rise skipped ahead. He stayed rooted until Rise reach a few paces short of Naoto, watched her slow down to a swaying, leg-over-leg strut, and took a few tentative steps of his own, stopping close enough to intrusively listen to their conversation.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around before," Rise practically sang, and Rise could sing like a siren.

Naoto's gaze shifted from the party's discord to Rise, expression looking just a little tight. "I only just arrived. I don't usually attend these sort of events, but I'm here to honour the invitation of an acquaintance."

Kanji felt himself tense up; Naoto was great with words, but he never spoke so...excessively, especially about himself. Maybe, probably, it was because he was talking to beautiful, popular Rise, and everyone wanted to talk to Rise.

Something about Naoto being like everyone in some wayrubbed Kanji all wrong.

" _Aww_ , that's so gallant of you," Rise purred — the music took that moment to slow down to a fading transition — and glided closer. "People just aren't like that anymore, y'know?"

If Naoto noticed the space between them close, he certainly didn't show it. "People vary."

Rise nodded. "Yeah, they do. But there need to be more people like you…" She tipped her head, humming off.

Naoto didn't miss a beat. He held out his hand. "Shirogane Naoto."

"Kujikawa Rise." She took his hand with a wink, and certainly took her sweet time letting it go.

Kanji riled at that: not Rise's flirting, but at how _easily_ Naoto had surrendered his name. Kanji practically had to _beg_ for it.

The music picked up, a grunge-pop tune with a beat Rise swung into smoothly. "I love this one. Dance with me?"

For the first time ever, Kanji saw Naoto hesitate to answer. The dude was _never_ off his guard, was _never_ indecisive about any situation.

But, then again, Kanji had never seen Naoto talk to a girl who sang at bars and danced in the rain and got everyone she ever wanted. Maybe, when it came down to it, Naoto was like other guys with other girls. Couldn't fault him for it. Couldn't figure out why he should have.

Finally, Naoto shifted on his feet. "I'm afraid I've only experience in ballroom dancing in more formal settings."

Rise perked at that, still swaying. "Oh, really? Ballroom dancing?" Her eyes dropped to a half-lidded gaze. "What other surprises are you hiding from me?"

It may have been a trick of the low light, but Kanji saw something in Naoto's expression stiffen. "Many things."

"Mysterious," Rise hummed. She eased out of her dance, eased closer to Naoto, eased her arm around his. "Then we should talk more about you over some drinks."

Rise pulled Naoto ahead, weaving between people as smoothly as she weaved into people's minds. Before dissolving into the crowd completely, she winked at Kanji. Naoto just kept his focus on Rise the whole time.

Probably didn't even know Kanji was there. Probably didn't even care.

Kanji stuffed his hands into his pockets and glowered, scaring off someone who chose that moment to look in his direction. He really didn't have a reason to be as pissed as he was, but maybe Rise shouldn't be leaving him alone like that.

Dammit, this was stupid. Parties, people, Naoto, Rise. Naoto and Rise, that was stupid, too. They were stupid.

He kicked at the floor and glared at the crowd once more before turning and walking away.

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go with a short, maybe 6-chapter story about these three trying to work out the concept of friendship (together, but against their wills), when none of them are really any good at it.
> 
> Leave a review; I'd love to hear from you!


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